


Team Sillyvision

by Notatree



Series: Team Sillyvision AU [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cartoon Physics, Gen, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, and a bit of demon magics, ink-related body horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notatree/pseuds/Notatree
Summary: The little devil darling finds himself trapped in the old cursed studio with probably one of the most unlikely companions.





	1. Out of the frying pan and into the... Studio?

**Author's Note:**

> some fic version of an AU I've been messing with for the past few months, have fun with that  
(no beta reader or regular update schedules, it just happens)

At first there was barely anything to really note. Nothing but murky darkness that felt like it expanded forever. But sometimes, there were these waves of thoughts and, apparently, emotions. Brief, fleeting feelings of something... bad. They were all too far away to understand any more than ‘bad’.

Another strange part was the accompanying sensation of almost _being something_ rolling in. Not emotionally, but existing, physically. Whatever that meant.

There was barely enough to think about _anything too hard._

Time, if such a thing even existed here, between each of those instances felt endless. They felt so long that they could almost be forgotten entirely until the next slow tide of feeling washes in.

And then the moments of nothing between became shorter. It wasn't too frequent, no, but the feelings started to ingrain like marked paper behind a pen writing over and over. Nothing seemed to change with what was written; still the same but now recognizable feelings of fear and pain, almost existing, not existing, a scent of candles…?

The way the thoughts and emotions surfaced was still so subtle, the occurrence akin to a weak beat of a heart.

Another heartbeat. Another wave.

This time, stronger feelings emerged. The impressions were enough to finally interpret words, those thoughts of fear, panic, the need to get away, the need to not be alone, to have somebody, anybody, to help, it was just so cold and dark, _please-_

Then suddenly there was _just so much._

The endless nothing was flooded with swirling blacks and greys like a torrent as various voices and whispers abruptly rose in volume, overlapping, overwhelming. It was so much more than before; more fear, anguish, despair, desperation, betrayal, anger… like a buzzing, screaming well. They were strange, foreign, not the feelings from before.

The emotions and feelings from before- his emotions? They existed before these ones so they must have been significant to him. Were they his? So- Wait- His? He? Who-? It’d become so hard to focus, and for the opposite reason to previously not having enough to actually focus on.

Suddenly, something moves and catches his attention upwards.

Gold slipped through some of the swirls, building up into a blinding light at the end of a murky tunnel. The cacophony of voices broke away but were not completely gone. Instead, a single voice was isolated. Phrases were overlapping enough that he couldn't make out more than a few words at a time. It was a rather calm voice.  
  
_“... see wh… …. hiding…. friend.”_  
_“... this … here?!”_  
_“... old desk…”_  
_“... were y…. ...ing?”_  
_“Alright Joey…”_  
  
And also strangely familiar….

The thoughts! The voice and those feelings were connected somehow, he knew it!

He couldn't even begin to wonder what the light was or why he started towards it, feeling like he was swimming against a current, but he knew he had to make it. His arms- he had arms?- felt too short but the light was so close now.

The mass of disjointed voices came back full force. Pitch black arms and hands clawing at him, but the light almost seemed to shun them. He was so close now, the same calm voice still there, calling. If he could just reach a little bit further. His fingertips just grazed the gold when one last definite thought, a name, surfaced just as he did.

_Bendy?_

The little devil darling found himself staring down at the wooden floor of a small, dimly lit room. The floorboard seemed warped with age and covered in dark stains. The quietness of this room felt jarring after everything he just went through. There was the smell of burning candles, a sharp scent that he recognized as ink, and something a bit more metallic. Blood? Lifting his gaze up revealed ink at his hands and feet to be in deliberate circles and overlapping triangles. There was a ring of candles around the furthest perimeter, a couple burned out. He made note of the excess ink that was still pouring off him as he shifted. A quick glance around the room was enough to realize how everything seemed to dwarf him until Bendy’s attention was drawn to two piles at each side of the circle.

To the right seemed to be a lump of ink stained clothing crumpled to the ground. With a quick squint, a messy head of grey hair could be made out ducking under the darkened sleeves. Thin lines of red (that's concerning) ran down their arms. The pile wasn't moving.

Bendy moved his focus to the left pile which seemed to be just ink. No squinting nor tilting his head showed more than a mass of thick black liquid piled on itself. It seemed to be strangely solid. This one was moving.

The little toon suddenly felt anxious and started to get up to check on the right figure. Or at least, he wanted to. The pile of ink seemed to twitch more erratically, bubbling and rising up, before starting to seep through the wooden boards. It was then he realized the extra ink on himself was doing the same, bringing on the feeling of weights on his back, pushing him through the floor as well.

Bendy’s arms splayed out in an attempt to find purchase. His pie-cut eyes darted around desperately for something to anchor himself, seeing the candles, some strange boxes, and a chair, but nothing was within range. Half of his body was now through the floor (he could still feel his legs kicking strangely enough) and he reached out at the right pile that had begun to stir. He tried to call out- for help? Why did he think they would help?- but no words came out. In his panic, Bendy barely had time to question the weak, breathy whistle that came out instead.

The ink piles were almost fully gone and Bendy was up to his face. What parts of his body that were under felt like staticky pins and needles. He skewed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable, but not before a last glance with one eye to the left. With all the excess ink melting off into puddles seeping who knows where, a vague face shape was revealed to wear one wide, twitching, but all to familiar grin.

And then Bendy fell.

It felt more like plunging into a thick pool than being painfully pulled through solid wood. The accompanying pressure and muffled noise only reinforced that feeling. A force kept him going down, like someone had tied an anchor around his waist. Bendy could barely tell if his eyes were open during the entire trip until he saw glimpses of more yellowed wood, before diving into the dark again. He couldn't tell if he was screaming, couldn't hear with the rushing of ink in his ears. But if he wasn't? He definitely wanted to.

Suddenly the anchor was cut off and he was free falling. It wasn't a long distance from the ceiling he was shot out of to a shallow pool of ink below. It was unfortunately not a moment of reprieve. The dunk into the ink brought back the screaming voices that Bendy has come to learn lived in that pitch black.  
  
_“...o home! …”_  
_“N… fair……s not fair! “_  
_“The proph… ...s lost…”_  
_“...id you hear … ?”_  
  
Bendy managed to pull his head out of the ink, eyes shut against the voices, and took a huge breath. Faint impressions of hands clawed at him and he frantically made his way to the ledge that was thankfully close by. It wasn't a large pool as it turned out. Nothing compared to being lost in there without a form. No wonder those voices were so-  
  
_“-OT FAIR NOT FAIR-!”_  
_“LIAR!”_

A support beam was close enough to grab onto as he scrambled his way away from the wailing only to bump headfirst into another creature that let out its own garbling screech. Bendy tripped and got up just as quick to avoid being bashed over the head with a- another head?! More alarmed whistles were heard as the little devil finally saw that this thing’s head was dangling from a fishing line, absolutely mutilated and spilling ink. The creature’s body was a mess: ink running lines down, legs melting, and one arm almost fused with the wrench it held. Some sort of sign was wrapped around its ‘neck’ that swung in time with its head as it recovered from that first miss. It would have stood just as tall as Bendy if his head were attached. Okay, maybe a little taller.

Bendy backed away and found the balance beam pressing against his back, knocking into something else he couldn't see. The room was just as spacious as the first one, which is to say, not at all. A quick glance of his options revealed a hallway to the left and the ink pool behind. Bendy wasn't given enough time to wonder if he could be fast enough to make it to the hall as the creature reappeared before him, wrench raised high. He ended up freezing in place and closed his eyes once more to brace himself. He really shouldn't be accepting these situations so easily but what can he do?! He was literally just… born? Made?

It happened too fast.

There was a screech, the gargling noises of that creature, and a loud, wet, almost a _crack!_ noise. Bendy felt the cold ink splatter on him and nothing else.

In fact, nothing happened to him at all.

There was another squelch, then a sickening snap before Bendy peaked open one curious eye. He immediately flinched back at the blinding light that assaulted his vision. His flinch finally knocked over the thing he grazed a while ago, causing it to clatter on the ground. Bendy cringed at the noise and eyes snapped wide open. Laid on the ground beside him now seemed to be a cardboard replica of himself grinning back up almost mockingly. Bendy averted his eyes from it, returning his focus to what was ahead of him. 

And he immediately regretted it.

The fishing pole creature was sprawled on the ground, no longer a threat. That was made obvious from the now gaping hole Bendy could see in its mutilated chest. Solid ink was torn apart, holding itself loosely as what seemed to be bones jutted out at unnatural angles. What made this worse though was a creature looming over them both, with its long hands digging right into the chest cavity. Bendy couldn't make out any more than that, not when the blinding light focused right on him.


	2. Like a Deer Caught in the Headlights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d been alive for, what, 20? 30 minutes? What a life!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I already wrote my Halloween fic for this AU so this is just a normal update :)

Bendy’s blood (ink?) ran cold for the short two seconds of being in the spotlight. It flickered away at him, analyzing. It felt entirely too long before the light shifted away abruptly, beginning to sweep almost methodically over the room. Like it didn’t notice him.

With the light no longer in his eyes, Bendy was allowed a clearer view of the newcomer. And it was not for the faint of heart, he could say that much.

The creature was tall, so abnormally tall that it still towered him in its crouch. It was as thin as a skeleton in most places, with what might be black soaked-through clothing plastered to its frame. Several objects seem to be lost in the ink that made up the body; a film reel embedded painfully into the shoulder, a speaker basically replaced its chest cavity, a splitting metal rod was impaled into its right arm, another on its right leg, while its left-... it really didn't have a left. Below the knee seemed to be even more metal joined together haphazardly. Ink dripped down its body just like the fishing pole monster before, and the creature from the candle room. Bendy wondered if he was like that too.

From his current angle, Bendy could barely make out the sheer amount of cables and film reel cascading down the tall creature’s back, tangling into each other. Where it all began and ended was too hard to tell.

A rather awful comparison came to mind. A very out-of-place thought for a time like this, if he were completely honest. Looking over this creature… It was kind of like the gag when someone has sticky glue poured over their body and shoved into a box of feathers. They come out looking like a bootleg chicken and everyone laughs. It was one way someone could probably end up looking like this. But in this case the sticky glue was ink. And the feathers seemed to be film equipment and miscellaneous sharp spare parts. All in all, it looked very messy. And painful.

Yeah, this wasn’t funny.

Bendy let out a brief, disbelieving chuckle from his chest at the absurdity of the cartoon gag coming to mind at such a time. This was actually a rather terrifying situation and it seemed humor was going to be his defense mechanism. At least he was learning something about himself.

He was still within the creature’s peripheral when the chuckle made him move his shoulders. He was in the spotlight again. Oops.

Bendy stood stock still, feeling sweat bead down. The creature was still crouching about a metre away, one hand deep into the clawed out chest of Bendy’s previous attacker.

Despite the blinding light, Bendy stared straight ahead. Perhaps in fear of making any more movement. _Definitely_ in fear of making more movement.

Maybe it was the difference in height that had him notice the creature’s head at last. Or, what he assumed was its head. If this thing had a face before, it was long gone. In replacement was an old projector focused right on the little devil. Ink splatters marked the sides and dripped down here and there, framing the lens. There was a clicking sound coming from it and faint static emanating from the speaker in its chest. Bendy found himself in a strained, awkward grin as it kept staring, feeling both fear and disbelief that this was the way he had to go. He’d been alive for, what, 20? 30 minutes? What a life!

One deformed, almost clawed hand was removed from the corpse with a sick squelch, and rip. Bendy watched something solid dropped back into the wound with a wet plop as the creature straightened up. It made one clumsy step towards Bendy, lifting the same arm up in an investigative manner towards Bendy. He shut his eyes once the hand was over his face.

_Yep, this is it._

This thing was going to rip his face off, have his chest clawed open, something like that. Bendy could only guess so much. He just knew he was going to die. He could just feel the hand coming closer. And closer.

_Show’s over and curtains closed. Goodbye, Bendy._

And then it pat the top of his head.

Bendy let out a surprised squeak at the feeling of a cold hand smoothing over his horns. He opened his eyes in time to see the creature start retracting his arm back. It looked at him, head tilted. There wasn’t any clear emotion coming from it. It was hard to know if it had any. At least it wasn’t killing him?

_Maybe it's not that bad?_

It was then that the fisher corpse dissolved with a sudden _pop!_, ink splattering both him and the taller creature. The leftover piles began to seep into the floorboards.

The tall projector-head jolted when the ink touched him, letting out clipped shriek from the speaker that had Bendy throwing his hands up. It seemed to glare back down at the receding ink, fists clenched. The body language just oozing anger. Its light, its ‘eye’, practically bore a hole at where the creature used to be.

It stayed like that for a good solid minute, before slowly beginning to slump again. Then it was like any emotion just washed away. Fists uncurled, projector light staring at nothing straight ahead; it was like it _didn’t_ just look like it was going to attack the stained floor in a fit.

The creature straightened again, almost full height, revealing to be more than twice Bendy’s height. It assumed a loose, strings-cut posture. Bendy was still reeling (ha) as he watched the creature go. With how it tore that first monster apart, the little toon was certain he was done for.

And yet, it also inadvertently saved him.

It couldn’t have done that with the intention to help, since it didn’t even know Bendy was standing there, but it was still nice to see not everything here was out to kill him.

The creature began to walk right past Bendy, not even acknowledging he was in the room. It had a rather clunky gait, limping from mismatched legs, and looking like it could barely hold its head on its shoulders. Bendy could imagine that the projector must be incredibly heavy and rubbed at his non-existent neck. The yellowed light flickered and bounced with each step. It turned towards a hallway Bendy somehow hadn't noticed before.

Then the projector-head stepped into the pool of ink, causing the little devil some panic. Did this thing not know what would happen?! Bendy could almost hear the ringing in his ears from those voices just thinking about it. The creature’s vision was evidently poor from what Bendy can gather, so maybe it didn’t see the pool? Should he do something?? His shouts of caution only came out as whistles once again.

Bendy’s worry was for naught as the creature trudged on without a flinch. The only sign that the ink affected it at all was a rise in static noise from the speaker. Bendy whistled in a more appreciative tone.

_Gee, what a trooper._

An idea came to mind.

Who knows how many weird monsters were in this place? So far the only thing that hasn’t tried to kill him was currently walking away. And there was a ledge just wide enough for him to shimmy along and follow. If he just stayed out of its light, then he was basically safe, right?

Bendy gave one more quick glance to the cardboard copy at his feet. It stared back, unblinking. He carefully propped it back up against the pillar where it used to be, right he used to be as well and stuck a tongue out at it. Task done, he began following the edge of the ink pool and reaching that ledge. A peak down the hall showed a small room, groups of barrels, and that creature making its way around them. A few more steps and it would be completely out of view.

It was now or never.

...

Did Bendy really want to follow this thing?

A sudden gurgling groan and spluttering behind him immediately answered that question. Bendy did not turn around to face the new creature, knowing it was probably as terrifying as everything else. He hurried along the ledge, hands flush against the wall to stay balanced, and followed the projectionist.

At some point, the little demon realized his mistake.

_“It's lights out”! I could’ve used “it’s lights out”!?_ He smacked his forehead in disbelief. _That would've been perfect!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is an inktober drawing that illustrates this chapter https://66.media.tumblr.com/4c224cdb79c959cdbb78bfbc622207f0/tumblr_pz6gswiN6K1scg47po7_r2_1280.png
> 
> as always let me know if you see any bad typos, I don't write very often and don't have a beta reader


	3. Cat and Mickey Mousing

_Okay. Maybe I didn’t think this through._

Bendy held as still as a statue as practically the equivalent of a prison searchlight swept past his position. Or maybe he was as still as a cardboard standee. That _did_ help him the first time. The dust floating about from the tarp covered boxes he was using as cover however _did not_ help him. It instead threatened to tickle at his face and force him to reveal his location.

Sure, a sneeze was not actually a problem as long as he stood out of sight. But if he sneezed, he might move. If he moved, he might hit something. If he hit something, that projector-headed creature just seemed to know and freak!

Bendy was beginning to think he was just real lucky that first time. It was going pretty well when this thing was occupied with other ink monsters but it was actually much scarier than he thought to constantly play hide-and-seek when it noticed him instead. This thing was either incredibly paranoid or just really thorough. Almost anything that moved in its peripheral would make it go alert. Bendy was given no instructions to being spat out into this world, much less about the residents in it. Who knows? This thing might actually want to kill him this time. If only this thing could talk. Or if Bendy could talk. They could have some civil conversation. You know, talk boundaries or something, or know if it was feeling blood-thirsty for some reason.

At least the projector-head seemed deaf, and the light was a decent giveaway to knowing if you were within its line of sight. Bendy just wished it wasn’t so jerky when it sensed something nearby.

Eventually the light was whisked away, clunky footsteps sounding farther away from his position. The creature lost interest again. Or forgot he was here. Either way, Bendy took a big breath in relief.

Of course, he ended up breathing in that aforementioned dust and sneezing. He banged his elbow into the crates, jostling them against the floor with an abrupt_ thud-thump!_

The footsteps stopped.

Silence.

Did some invisible force or law make him exaggerate every other little thing? Why couldn’t he just move like a normal person? …_ Did he count as a person?_ Now that’s too much to think about.

Ink dripped from a leaky ceiling pipe in steady plips, counting how long Bendy held his breath.

The footsteps resumed.

Bendy let out a delayed hiss in pain. He tiptoed to the end of the room while rubbing at his elbow and peeked from the doorway. He caught sight of the creature fiddling with something out of view. There was another faint _clik-krrkrkrk-clik!_ constantly starting and stopping from its direction. The little devil took his chances, again, to get a closer view. He was still curious, alright?

He creeped into the room, spying several uncomfortable-looking chairs lined in rows and rickety stairs at the far end of the room leading up to a balcony. It wasn't too high up, just barely above the height of that projectionist. The balcony held old speakers and wires that wrapped along the banister haphazardly. As always, thick black pipes snaked along the ceiling leading to and from who knows where. There were puddles of ink that Bendy made sure to swerve around, not trusting that weird bubbling. He made sure to avoid the scattered pieces of wood and metal as well. This place really seemed like it could come apart at any moment, like it was being held together by ink and a prayer.

Once closer, Bendy could see what the creature was messing with. It was another projector, sitting on a slim table. One would think that that projector should be up on the balcony instead if this room was some sort of theatre. The creature kept turning the reels and flicking switches. It wasn’t really doing anything else. Was it… adjusting it? Fixing it? Breaking it?

Was it considered weird for a projector-headed creature to be tinkering with a projector or did it actually make sense if it did?

Whatever it was doing, it seemed either satisfied or gave up as it let go of the projector, letting it loop some cartoon clip.

The light flickered and the reels clicked along to a short scene being displayed across the cracking drywall. Bendy still found it strange; knowing that the character on the screen and plastered all over the walls was supposed to be himself. He hadn’t had time to study his reflection, but he knew that he was supposed to look like that. A little devil darling; the Dancing Demon, “Bendy”.

Any clue to what he was and where he came from could probably be answered from that very first room, the one with the candles. The two other… people? that were with him might have some answers. But how would he find them, or that room, again?

Bendy almost forgot the fellow ink creature in the room. He'd been so transfixed on the cartoon clip of a little demon and a skeleton that he didn't realize he stopped within plain sight. He was both blinded and deafened as the creature turned and saw him. Bendy threw his hands up on reflex and knew that his chance of pretending to be a cutout was out the window. With a panicky screech of his own, Bendy booked it.

The chase was almost comical.

Bendy knew the room he just came from only had a few support beams, pipes in the walls, and those same boxes. He didn’t want to risk hiding there twice while the thing was much too close to his metaphorical tail. So instead, he used all the objects around this room to try and confuse his pursuer. If he could gain enough distance, maybe he can lose the light and dive for cover elsewhere.

There were plenty of chairs and tables that he ducked in and out of, trying to shake off the other. It overturned each object in attempts to catch the little demon. It was rather interesting how easily this thing could throw solid furniture against a wall with how skinny it looked. It probably wasn’t running by the laws of physics, kinda like Bendy. That, or adrenaline was one hell of a drug.

A splintering crash right before his face of what used to be a poor wooden chair startled Bendy in his tracks.

Oh. It managed to destroy almost all the furniture. Bendy smacked himself in exasperation, knowing he should’ve made a break for the door sooner. There was almost nothing between him and the projectionist now.

The creature lunged at him with clipped shriek, narrowly missing the toon and hitting the wall. It let out a static hiss as it hit the wall shoulder-first with the side that had the reel lodged in it. Bendy circled around, wiping ink from his eyes to frantically search for another exit. The door was on his left but so was the recovering projectionist. On his right was the staircase up to the balcony. This thing was twice his height, it would probably cover twice the steps Bendy could even with its bad leg.

Ink kept running down his face as the next screech warned him of the creature just an arm's length away from stopping Bendy right then and there.

If he could just throw himself up there, he'd break line of sight instantly. He wasn't made with wings like some demons but if only he could fly or jump or… The glint of a metal pole among the scattered pieces of wood caught his eye. It seemed long, a good few feet longer than Bendy’s height, skinny, but looked sturdy.

A lightbulb shown above Bendy.

Risking one more lap around the room, Bendy quickly snatched the pole and held it high above the broken furniture. The projector sitting on the lone table started to skip and click loud as he focused on the oncoming platform. _This is just another gag,_ he assured himself. _Another trick you'd see in cartoons. This has to work._ The rising static and enveloping light was just as encouraging as ever.

_Oh lack of physics, don’t fail me now!_

Using his running start, Bendy gripped one end of the pole and stuck the other end right through the brittle floorboards, feeling the metal bend in place before snapping back into shape, vaulting him higher than one should question. There was the strange sound of aluminum rising and wobbling accompanying his ascent. He lost grip once he was at the highest point and was sent flying onto the balcony above. He did not quite stick the landing but that didn't stop him from feeling the rush of satisfaction, excitement, over lingering terror. He didn’t think that would work. Well he had hoped it would but you can't blame him for still being surprised. Lucky for him, he seemed to be getting the hang of these nonsensical abilities.

Not as lucky, though, for the projectionist chasing him.

It happened so fast. The toon barely started to get to his feet when he heard and felt it. There was the clatter and clang of the discarded metal pole, stumbling, and an unsettling _crk-CRACK!_ below. He felt the wood under his feet shudder and creak, startling him into grabbing the railings as the platform’s floor started to cave. The speakers were thrown out of place, dangling dangerously, creating dead weights that caused the wood to splinter and fall.

There was another final, distorted shriek of that creature as the balcony collapsed.


	4. Off Routine

_ Where did it go? _

One more stride, one more swipe, and the Projectionist would've finally grabbed that little creature up and torn it apart. It would have finally left him alone.

But in the next flash of light, it disappeared.

Something the Projectionist couldn’t see suddenly tangled between his legs, sending him stumbling shoulder-first into the support beam ahead. He couldn’t recover as fast he should've, instead slumping, as the new pain added to the lingering discomfort from the earlier crash. The Projectionist could feel the old wood of the support beam immediately splinter and shudder before he suddenly found himself staring at the floor instead. A heaviness was keeping him down. Everything ached. But didn't it always? 

Where did that creature go? He needed to find it. Tear its heart. It would hurt him. He needed to keep moving. _ Stay out of trouble. _

Something was telling him not to move. 

Why couldn’t he move? 

He felt like he shouldn’t move. 

He felt like he _ needed _ to move. 

Things were falling off his back, onto the floor with incessant clattering vibrations. There were broken planks of wood, rusted metal and snapped wires from the sound systems, all tangled together. They all swung haphazardly or rained down, shaking the ground, hitting his back, his legs, here and there. There was too much. He couldn’t tell what to focus on, where to look. He couldn’t see- couldn’t hear- couldn’t _ know _ \- _ he needed to know— _

What did he need to know? 

What happened? Where was he? 

The Projectionist scanned the area around him. Wooden floor boards, failing plaster. Overturned chairs everywhere, and a lone projector. He.. did that. Right? He remembered now. He was in an old theatre. He needed to work. He was under debris where that balcony used to be. 

He needed to move. He needed to work. 

_ Take care of the projectors. Stay out of trouble. _

Everything still ached. He needed to move. 

The Projectionist pressed his hands down firmly onto the floor and slowly drew his legs under him. He pushed himself up to all fours before feeling some sort of resistance. There was a pressure along his back. Something told him again to stop. To wait. No, he needed to move. He needed to-- 

_ Snap! _

Suddenly there was a blinding pain. It felt like a sharp cold-burning down his back, into his nerves. His chest was hurting, the metal of it was vibrating again. He couldn’t hear what sound the speaker must be making. He never could. His chest, his back, it hurt. What was hurting him? Where was it? He couldn't see behind him. He couldn't hear. He needed to move!

Another _ snap! _ More pain, more burning, it stung, it hurt, it hurt _ ithurtsithurts! _

He couldn’t see what was hurting him, he couldn’t hear, he can’t, he can’t, _ ithurtsithurts— _

The Projectionist crumpled back down, long limbs twitching from intermittent shocks of pain. He couldn't move. He shouldn't move. 

What was he doing? Where was he? He shouldn't move. 

The debris had eventually finished falling, settling on itself after his attempt to stand up. The trapped ink creature didn't move. He was able to focus again now that everything stilled. He focused on the low humming vibrations, the shifting of the floor, and the slow beat and slosh of the ink. And then a disturbance in pressure beside him as wood creaked under a weight. Something small moved in his peripheral, by the staircase on his left. He was in an old theatre. He remembered now. There was something he was chasing. Did.. Did it trick him? It was going to hurt him if he didn't move. But moving also hurt. 

The Projectionist could see it more clearly now that it stopped hiding. Peeking from the railings was that small creature from before. It flinched at his light but didn’t run like before. It wasn’t a butchered toon like he thought. It actually resembled that Demon. But... too small. Like the cutouts. 

It was different. Something new.

He didn’t like that. 

No, different meant he didn’t know what it was. New meant he didn’t know what it’d do. He needed to know things, he needed to…

It was not attacking mindlessly, no, it must be planning. Like the taller, smarter creatures, like the Demon, the Angel, or the Prophet. And it was going to hurt him too. It trapped him and it was going to hurt him. The small demon slowly started down the steps, approaching the Projectionist. He couldn't move and it was getting closer and closer. His chest ached, the metal shuddered between his ribs with each step it took.

Bendy tentatively held up his hands in what he hoped was understood to mean no harm. 

The ink creature screeched and screeched just like when it first tried to move but in low, almost sad bursts as it warned him away. It was nothing like the heart-stilting shrieks from before. And Bendy wasn't sure if he would ever forget the sickening sound of the wires snapping and what could only have been incredible pain. 

He'd admit, he was terrified to hell and back, but he was slowly realizing that this thing was just as scared.

Probably.

When Bendy came to a stop in front of the projector-head, away from arm’s reach just in case, he got a better look at the poor fella. It seemed most of whatever crashed down was blunt enough not to make a shishkebab of the thing, and anything skinny enough seemed to slot between all the wires and film tape that tangled behind it. Bendy had thought that all of those were just stuck on the creature, from his earlier chicken joke, but apparently they could hurt. Like they were fused to its being. That sent a shiver or two. 

With having a weak point in your most blind spot, the constant state of alert was making a lot more sense. 

Bendy noticed that the screeching had tapered down. The only noise now was the clicking of a non-existent reel, fast like a racing heart, as the projectionist seemed to watch his hands for any ill movement. How could Bendy tell this guy (since maybe the constant ‘thing’ or ‘creature’ was rude) that he was harmless?

He tried an awkward grin and waved his right hand a little at the other. Like a really belated greeting. Surely they were a bit past introductions at this point but better late than never? The small action had it shrink back and made Bendy’s heart skip in fear for its wires. But it didn't screech. It didn't attack either. Maybe he was getting somewhere! 

He slowly pointed towards the debris hanging over the projectionist. Its light was hesitant to look away from him, glancing up only for a second then back down at him again. Bendy realized it wouldn’t be able to turn its head enough to see thicker wooden plank that slotted between the wires and film, pulling at least three of them. That didn’t count the first two that tore earlier. If he wanted to help free the poor guy, that plank had to go eventually. Maybe he could start smaller. 

Bendy kept the hands in view as he inched towards the left, having to chance being closer to the projector-man when a bubbling ink puddle was in the way. At its right arm, there was a cord tangled at the elbow. He squinted at that, following the path of it leading from elbow to its back. That arm was free but he caught sight of another cord that ended somewhere to its right leg. A thin metal pole had slipped from the balcony into the space between. If that wire snapped, would its leg hurt too much to walk? The amalgamation of ink and theatre equipment was having trouble enough as is. As nice as the idea of no longer being chased around was, Bendy wasn’t going to be that type of sadistic demon. 

While making sure the projectionist wasn’t making any sudden movements to attack him, Bendy carefully reached towards it. The pole didn’t look like it was bearing any weight of the debris. It was a good first start.

The Projectionist watched the little creature wrap its gloved hands around a pole and pull it free from the pile of debris. It threw it off to the side in exaggerated movements, turning back to look at him with a smile. An earnest grin. Reassuring? Hesitant. It wasn't like the Butchered’s nor the Demon’s. It was… 

It was helping him. 

Another pole was hoisted up, followed by a couple frayed wires being thrown aside. The Projectionist raised himself up to a kneel now that his leg was freed. He tilted his projector to the little demon who stared puzzled at what used to be part of the balcony’s floorboard slotted right between the cords of his back. A small gloved hand pointed up once again, now knowing it had his attention. It pointed to the top portion of the debris, where the splintered wood met with the rest of the caved-in balcony. It looked like it could still collapse at any moment. That chunk of wood must be keeping it all trapped just as much as it trapped him. 

The clever little demon waved his attention once more, pantomiming his exact realization. It held both hands above its horns, as if bearing a lot of weight, before pointing at the plank, and mimicking a sudden collapse where it twirled around in faux panic and then seemed to flatten itself as its fate. Watching that had the Projectionist feel rather… baffled. It really flattened like a pancake. But he did understand. The smaller creature couldn't take out the last chunk of wood itself or he would be crushed. Something needed to keep the debris up while the plank was moved. 

Oh.

The Projectionist could only nod and hope they were on the same page. The little demon bounced back into action, almost literally. It looped its arms impossibly around the plank while the taller of the two carefully placed his hands against the falling balcony and pushed. It was an instant trade. The plank was quickly yanked out from the bottom, out of his wires, leaving the balcony’s weight to him as he felt it shudder and shift. The Projectionist watched the little creature scamper a little ways away, throwing him a glance, before he gave one final shove at the debris and practically threw himself away from its final collapse. 

He rolled onto his right side, lightly knocking into something, and took a moment to regain his bearings. He felt the ground shake with the balcony's falling into the massive heap of old splintered wood and wires. He was… he was free. He could move. He could work. He could...

Where was he?

The Projectionist looked up at what he hit and noticed that a projector sitting on a lone table was now askew. There were chairs littered everywhere. He was in a theatre. The looping cartoon now played at a slant to an audience of no one but him. That wasn’t right. He needed to work. Take care of the projectors. 

His body ached. It always ached though. 

The projector was quickly leveled again when the Projectionist realized he wasn't alone. The familiar shape in his peripheral once again. How did he forget? That little demon. The Projectionist turned his light to his right and there it was, standing where he last saw it. Peeking from behind an overturned chair. That little demon, so different and new.

But he needed to work. 

He needed to take care of the projectors. 

He couldn't focus on that thing. It wasn't hostile and thus he doesn't have to deal with it. He needed to keep moving. 

_ Stay out of trouble. Take care of the projectors. Keep moving. _

The Projectionist checked the alignment one more time and watched the animation play. 

_ Take care of the projectors. Take care of the cartoon...? _

He looked back at the little cartoon demon hiding behind the tombstone and the same little demon hiding from him just the same.

Now that the scary, screeching ink monster that was well over twice his height was freed, of course Bendy took cover. A chair that was knocked over during the chase was all he had to place between the two of them. Just in case. The first thing the creature did though was look rather lost and then fix that projector again. Bendy figured that made sense, if it was its job or something. But surely Bendy wasn't that forgettable after their fantastic team up just now. 

Oh, it was looking at him again. 

Bendy squinted against the light and braced for auditory impact. But nothing came. The fella just looked at him funny and back at the screen of his image. Bendy wanted to quip about probably getting the same weird feeling seeing himself like that. Like a calling. Or maybe weird deja vu. 

In all honesty, Bendy wasn't really sure what he felt so maybe it was good that he couldn't quip. 

And he definitely wasn't sure what the projector-head was feeling or thinking when it blinked at him once more. It tilted its ‘head’. Then it suddenly twitched up. It screeched, causing Bendy to cower as a hand lashed out and nearly missed him.

And then Bendy heard the gross crack and splatter when the hand crushed a melting half-body that had crawled up behind him. 

He barely got a look at the thing as it was pitch black with ink and over in an instant. The body shot back with a gurgling groan into the bubbling puddle from before. The projectionist glared down at it until the surface fully stilled. Bendy let out a long, thin whistling breath in relief. Then he felt a familiar pat between his horns and looked back up at his new friend. He just got saved, right after saving the other. On purpose this time. Guess they were even now, huh? Bendy was sure to flash his best smile at the other who he hoped understood. They seemed pretty bright after all. And Bendy wasn't so bad either, he'd like to think.

Maybe, just maybe, they could make a good team! Travelling around here alone sounded terrifying, at least to him. It was honestly unfair that he had to go through one thing after another before he could learn more about himself or his whereabouts.

Before he could do anything else to convey his preposition, Bendy suddenly found himself being scooped up and held closely by his new projector friend. He fussed in fear of being dropped for only a second as the projectionist kept on watching that ink puddle for any threats. Despite the runny ink body, it actually had a rather solid hold on him. It felt pretty reassuring. Soon they were off and out of that theatre room together. Seemed like they were on the same page after all! From his new vantage, Bendy was able to see so much more of the rooms they passed and the twisting corridors. He was getting pretty excited about the idea of exploring more about where he was. And maybe soon what, and why, he was.

But the question he had for now; How do you explain that you need to find a way to a room with a ring of candles and/or the guy that he saw sleeping on it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that ends the slightly long narrative of the beginning to Team Sillyvision AU.  
I was debating leaving this as completed 4/4 and starting a new work for the rest of the events, but, I wouldn't know how to title that...  
So with that in mind, the next few chapters may feel more episodic for these two until it reaches the more story-heavy bits.  
And then I'll have to figure out how to write/format for Team Photoplayer so h


	5. Talking Through One's Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short-ish chapter as I decided to split it to two, the next one being much longer and more busy

In the back of his mind, like most of the information he had to work with, Bendy knew this place was supposed to be a studio. The same way he knew he was supposed to be a cartoon. There were equipment and posters everywhere that screamed “animation studio” but, man, this place was kinda a dump! It was constant creaky floor, dreary drooping wallpaper, and, oh, SO MUCH ink. There were so many swollen, leaky pipes full of the stuff that Bendy was absolutely certain didn't belong to any kind of studio. Had Bendy ever been in an animation studio? Not really. He didn't really think so. Well, maybe? 

But seeing all this just felt wrong. A little more than a gut feeling, like he knew this place used to look much better. 

Bendy and his new buddy had continued their trek through the studio seemingly without pause. The little demon at one point had tried to mentally map out the routes they've taken but it only made his head spin. A floor would be labelled ‘Level 10’, and then one obscure staircase later, they're in ‘Level N’. You know, his favourite number. At the very least he knew they were heading _ up. _ Bendy never actually managed to tell the projectionist that he needed to go upstairs to find that candle room but he won't look a gift horse… projector head in the… uhh lens. 

And another thing! . 

They have been walking up _ so _ many stairs now that Bendy might scream if he had to see another set. He had to be grateful that it actually wasn't him doing the climbing because then he would be tired _ and _ bored out of his mind. He had been excited about exploring before but, aside from the occasional monster, all these stairs and being carried in such a monotonous pace could honestly rock Bendy to sleep. 

Maybe he should just take a nap next time and hope they get somewhere interesting.

Bendy decided to change his position from sitting up and sightseeing to slumping against the projectionist’s chest and resting his head over their shoulder, mindful of the wire. This caused the other to stop and fix their hold with Bendy’s squirming but eventually went back to marching on. 

Bendy lazily watched the stairs and floorboards go by and turn to a shallow ink pool under them. He instinctively held on tighter at the thought of touching the stuff, but he didn't even hear the projectionist’s speaker go off this time. Meanwhile, said projectionist really just kept moving forward without a thought, as if they knew this place like the back of their hand, ‘working’ from projector to projector. A real employee of the year in Bendy’s opinion. 

That brought Bendy back to his earlier complaints.

What kind of animation studio had _one_ employee? He hadn't seen anyone else working aside from the projectionist, or anything really… human. Another thing he felt familiar, the idea of this place being so busy with people. Any other living thing the two encountered had tried to attack them before being quickly squished. If any of those crawling monsters and deformed toons were supposed to be employees, well, they're all doing a lousy job at it. 

Bendy continued to watch the ripples in the now diluted ink and listened to the sound of the splashing echoing weirdly, like they were in a tunnel. 

Oh! Bendy shot up to look around and realized, yep, they were in a tunnel now?

It felt really muggy here, more so than the other rooms they've been in. Huge metal cylinders took up the next room, surrounded by piping that surprisingly wasn't for ink. Bendy let out a sharp, hissy whistle when he realized it smelt terrible here too. What was that stench?

The Projectionist suddenly stopped to look at a crate that sat between the big machines, seeming to be considering something. Maybe they were wondering why a box was here connected to a bunch of chains. At least, that was what Bendy was wondering. He decided to hop right on top of it, surprising the projectionist, and gave the wooden box a good little stomp. Yep. It sure was a box. 

Something else down in the ink at the box’s base caught Bendy’s eye. He reached down to grab it and shook it of the water and ink. 

It was… a hat?

Now that was fairly interesting. Bendy was sure a box didn't need a hat. He turned it over and felt around the brim of it. It was sepia-toned like everything else, and felt weirdly papery, but it looked like a bowler hat. The idea that someone had lost it made Bendy a little bit sad. It was such a nice hat after all. 

Bendy showed the hat off to the projectionist who must've been looking at it in the first place. Unfortunately, like always, with a short burst of static, it seemed like they switched channels again and lost interest in what was in front of them. They picked up Bendy once again before deciding to, as Bendy always (never?) said, press on. Bendy quickly plopped the hat over one of his horns for safe keeping. 

It didn't take long for another interesting thing to show up. Just a few turns and walking from the weird boiler room was a desk, right in a little alcove of the tunnel. It didn't look like it belonged there at all, what with it being held up by a few boards rather than a proper floor. There was a bunch of paper around it with.. stories? Poems? A few pieces had music notes too but many were too waterlogged or stained beyond legibility. Not that Bendy knew how to read sheet music. Paper could be found almost everywhere here anyway and so those were not what Bendy was currently fiddling with in curiosity. He haphazardly balanced the violin he had found from behind the chair on his knees and held up what was apparently a tape recorder. There was a fading label on it he could just almost read. 

‘J’… ‘e’… No that's just a fancy ‘a’... 

‘Jack’? 

Bendy pressed down the arrow button with a little _ clik! _ and started swinging his legs back and forth over the desk’s edge. The Projectionist had taken the violin away and sat it back down beside the rickety chair. A low, fairly nasal voice filled the little alcove. 

_ “I love the quiet, and that’s hard to come by these busy times. _

_ And yea, it might stink to high heaven down here. But it’s just perfect for an old lyricist like me.” _

So there _ were _ more workers here! Workers that could talk! _ No offence, Lamps _, Bendy smiled to the projectionist who clearly couldn't hear his thoughts nor the recorder. 

_ “Sammy’s songs always got some bounce, but if I didn’t get away once in a while, they’d never have any words to go with them. So I’ll keep my mind a-singin’ and, uh, my nose closed.” _

So two music workers so far, namely ‘Jack’ and ‘Sammy’. Bendy squinted at his projector friend. He still didn't know what their name was but they didn't seem like a Jack or a Sammy. They didn't work with music either since they already worked with projectors. 

‘Projectionist’ couldn't really be their name though, could it? 

The ‘Projectionist’, which will be their work’s name _ and _ working name for now Bendy supposed, looked up at him which reminded him. He reached up for the hat, gloved hands sliding over the brim one more time in thought. This Jack was probably the one who lost it. Maybe the poor guy was worried sick about where it could've gone. Bendy hopped onto the chair, placing the tape recorder back on the desk and set the hat on top with a little pat. 

There. It should be easier for Jack to find when the guy comes back to work. He smiled as the projectionist picked him back up. He hoped Jack would find his hat soon.


	6. Strike Up the Band

A sudden loud _ clang! _ and scraping definitely woke Bendy up after he had started to nod off again. In his defense, the sight of stairs going out from the sewers had him mentally preparing for another long trip to snoozeville. He glanced down at the Projectionist’s light illuminating a metal dustpan that must’ve been accidentally kicked to cause the sound he heard. It sat innocently on the floor with a handle stained with ink. 

The Projectionist quickly ignored it and kept walking through what seemed to be an open room with many branching hallways. Bendy tapped their shoulder before hopping onto the wooden floor, finally feeling recharged for more sightseeing. Though as Bendy bent down to pick up the dustpan, something gleamed at the corner of his eye.

Huh. Nothing but hardwood floor and a puddle.

Bendy shrugged and twirled the dustpan around as he studied the way they just exited. 

They were in a hallway lined with frames of vinyl records and music sheets like the ones he saw getting soaked downstairs. There were those stairs they just came from, labelled ‘infirmary’, weirdly enough. Maybe he did doze a little if he didn't notice the little resting area they seemed to pass. He could see a couple chairs and a bed peaking from where he stood. Back in the hallway, a window sat at the end of the corridor, looking into another room rather than outside. Bendy realized he hadn't seen any glimpse of an outside and it was honestly rather claustrophobic. He… He knew what ‘outside’ was. In concept. Did he know what outside was supposed to look like? A vague idea of an empty sky and lots of space came to mind. 

There was writing down there at that window but he couldn't see it from where he stood. 

A funky tune crackling over a speaker drew Bendy’s attention back to the open area the Projectionist crossed, where it split off into even more halls in every direction. Puddles of ink were scattered by a decorated wall that was being specifically lit up by the surrounding lights. The music looped lowly through the speakers mounted on each side of the huge wall. There was a mural of vinyl records and music notes painted all over with big swoops which Bendy found rather fun. Definite, bold letters in the middle spelled out ‘Music Department’, followed by that ‘Sammy Lawrence’ name again. Apparently the guy was the music director. Bendy could only wonder if he must've bossed people around all day. Bendy wasn't sure if he'd get along with someone like that. 

More papers were framed along the wall. They looked like awards for the music but for some reason they were all awarded to a ‘Joey Drew’, a name Bendy kept seeing everywhere. It made sense since it seemed he owned the place but…Well, there was just something about it that left a bad taste in his mouth. He was learning as he went but he wasn't too excited about what he might learn more about mister boss man, considering. 

Bendy spied another tape recorder sitting quite randomly on a shelf under a speaker, just out of his reach. The Projectionist had disappeared somewhere up ahead, leaving Bendy alone for the first time since first deciding to bring him along, and leaving him too short to grab that recorder. The little demon scanned around the room before looking down at the dustpan he picked up. He looked between it and the recorder before jumping up to smack it off the shelf, sending it into the floor with a loud clatter. It landed next to a puddle that started to bubble until the recording began to play. 

_ “So first, Joey installs this ‘Ink Machine’ over our heads. Then it begins to leak.” _

Huh! Well that solved two or three questions! 

_ “Three times last month, we couldn’t even get out of our department because the ink had flooded the stairwell. _

_ Joey’s solution? An ink pump to drain it periodically. Now I have this ugly pump switch right in my office. People in and out all day. _

_ Thanks, Joey. Just what I needed. More distractions.” _

Bendy nodded in full empathy. He was with this guy the whole way; all that mess sounded terrible and a good reason to be so snippy.

_ “These stupid cartoon songs don’t write themselves, you know.” _

_ Hey now- _

The recorder gave another click, indicating the end of the tape before Bendy could argue against it. 

Bendy tapped the dustpan handle against his chin as his brain wrapped around this new info. The ‘ink machine’ wasn't always around, so the ink monsters weren't… normal. They probably never were, now that he really thought about it. Monsters didn’t belong to an animation studio, nor did flooded halls of ink, and sad, scary voices in said ink. His weird nostalgia just didn’t seem to match up with what he was seeing. There was a significant lack of people and an absurd amount of disrepair. Closed down and abandoned.

That definitely made more sense than believing it was somehow functioning while looking like _ this _.

Geez, he felt really stupid now. No one is working around here because there aren’t any workers. Just monsters. 

Except… 

A ‘cliiiick-clik-click’ kind of sound echoed, somewhere past the doorway labelled with a lit up sign that stated ‘RECORDING’. Bendy was now very familiar with the sound of a projector being messed around with. He eagerly ran through the door to find where his friend was and found himself in the biggest room he had been in so far. The clicking was coming from above, where Bendy found the Projectionist in a small booth overlooking the area. 

_ Wow, that was high up! _

Bendy tried to bounce around to get his friend’s attention but they seemed too focused on the projector balanced on the balcony’s ledge.

Bendy quickly bolted back out and guessed the direction the Projectionist went, quickly hopping up the steps to the booth. The Projectionist jumped when Bendy bumped into him, giving a clipped tone before seeing who had collided with their leg. Something got knocked over the ledge in their startle and landed into the room below with a worrying crack. The Projectionist apparently paid it no mind, just relieved that the projector wasn't what fell. Bendy guessed so anyway. The toon gave an apologetic smile before checking out the little space. 

There was a bunch of metal and dials lined on the back wall for some reason, a desk full of papers and film, and a chair. Bendy tried the desk drawers briefly, only to find them jammed and lost interest. He heard the click of the projector turning on and looked up at the booth’s ledge that was just barely too tall for him. Bendy gave a bit of a huff at wondering how to ask to be picked up. 

Oh right! He threw the dustpan behind him and made work on pushing the chair from the back of the booth. Once it was flush against the balcony railing, Bendy quickly clambered up to get a view of the room below. It was a tall, open room with a section lined with chairs and littered with many musical instruments. Microphones were hung here and there, and a huge canvas was plastered high onto the wall directly ahead of them. The familiar cartoon of himself and a skeleton was now being projected onto it. 

Bendy let out an appreciative whistle and marveled at how far up the two of them were. The whistle echoed quite nicely into the vacant music hall. It was one of the largest rooms he has seen so far and he couldn't help but want to play with those instruments. They were all just laying down there, in considerably good condition. There was a cutout hiding behind a music stand that drew his eye to the violin, which was definitely fancy stuff, but the big drum in the back was also _ very _ tempting. He jokingly wondered if snippy music man might pop up out of no where if he tried to touch something but… no one was really around to stop him from playing a bit, right? There were those monsters around but the Projectionist would have his back. 

Bendy gave the empty hall one more glance as it really began to hit him that it really was _ empty _. The idea that this place really must be abandoned came back to him and filled him with a strange melancholy. How nice it would've been to see what this place must've looked like in its glory days, people bustling around, chatting, making wonderful things. Bendy wondered if he'd be pretty popular then, since his face was all over the place. A fan club sounded kinda fun!

Just having others around at all seemed kinda fun… 

He turned to look at his current and only companion. The Projectionist continued to lazily stack the film reels that sat along the ledge, organizing them in a way that probably only made sense to them. 

If this studio was closed down and long abandoned then there wasn't any need for all that anymore. Bendy frowned a little. Did the poor fella not know that he didn't need to work so hard?

Why was he working at all? Every time Bendy thought about people working here, they didn’t look like ink monsters. He was certain that these memories weren’t his at this point. They helped sometimes, but other times made things feel more confusing. 

Bendy hated thinking about this. 

He wanted to think about something else. Like having fun with some musical instruments.

He was going to go do that instead. 

The little toon made up his mind and started down the stairs again to go into the music room. He marched right up to the big drum at the back of the room and gave it one solid hit, listening to the echo. His grin returned as he made more senseless noise, feeling the booms of the drum this close.

The other side of the room had a huge instrument he wasn’t sure the name of. It was like the mother of all violins and it sounded very soothing when he plucked at the strings. It was long and hummed in his chest. Bendy quickly remembered the actual violin in the room and turned around to play with it as well when he noticed. The cardboard cutout disappeared. 

_ Huh? _

Bendy scanned the area for the lookalike but it was nowhere to be seen. That was.. A little bit weird. Sure, he was getting confused by things not matching up with ideas and memories in his head, but he knows for sure he saw a cutout here. 

The projector suddenly clicked off loudly, causing Bendy to jump.

Was there always a cutout up there?

There was another balcony room next to where the Projectionist was, and it was occupied by that grinning piece of cardboard. That was also a little weird. He didn't remember seeing any stairs that would lead up there. Was there an entrance from the first booth? 

Bendy ran back and found the answer to be a ‘no’. The only thing on the walls were dials and posters, no secret door. That was a bit disappointing. Something was fishy, but for some reason his dustpan had also disappeared so it wasn't an available weapon right now. Bendy peaked down below the balcony, in case he dropped it but actually saw that a tape recorder was broken on the floor instead. 

_ Wait… Huh?? _

The cutout was back.

With a friend. 

There were two cardboard standees now sitting in the hall below. 

Bendy immediately needed to test something. 

The Projectionist gave a higher- questioning?- pitched tone as Bendy bolted back down the stairs.

The chairs were empty once he entered the room. He looked up. 

There were now two cutouts in the booth. The Projectionist is staring at him with a tilted head. Bendy rushed back to join him and metaphorically jaw dropped at the now three cutouts grinning at him from where he left. 

It went on like this for a while. He chased after the cutouts, the Projectionist watching him dash in and out, until he was whistling out of breath. There was basically a cardboard choir now in the music hall below, and Bendy didn’t catch a single one moving. They all just sat there like a band waiting to play. He really wished he could ask the Projectionist if they saw anything but, well, y’know. 

Bendy gave up. He was going to continue playing with the instruments again.

Now back in the _ empty _music hall, Bendy found a banjo leaning on the wall and played it a little. He tried to think of any songs that he remembered, or borrowed a memory of. Some tunes actually did come to mind, but there weren’t any instruments around that seemed to match the sounds in his head. For some ‘stupid cartoon songs’, he still remembered them sounding pretty nice. Oh how Bendy would love to find a trumpet.

Under that now cramped second balcony was a piano that Bendy just noticed. It was sitting in the darker corner of the room. 

Bendy started tapping keys along the piano idly, before another song came to mind. It did have piano in it, and Bendy felt like he knew exactly how to play it. He started feeling rather excited at how easily the notes came to him, whistling along to a tune. It was like he could actually hear the music out loud, with instruments that weren’t in the room. 

He took his hands off the piano and the song kept playing. Bendy danced along. It felt so natural to him. 

Bendy whistled along to a tune of an imaginary tuba and clarinet, tapping to the sound of piano. He twirled around, tapped his shoes, closed his eyes and forgot he was alone in an abandoned, creepy music hall. He wanted more moments like this. If only the Projectionist could hear the song and dance with him. Maybe he could make them dance anyway! Pull them around, maybe feeling at least the beat of the music that seemed to energize his heart. Just for some fun. The guy can’t just work all day now. 

He opened his eyes to see if his friend was still up in that booth when he realized he wasn’t alone after all. 

The cutouts moved back down. They were all staring at him. 

Bendy squeaked, jumping in fright. The music was cut short. The projector was off and the lighting coming from a windowed room to his left cast all the cutouts in a terrifying shadow. All the faces around him started to feel less like a joyful band and more like a judging court.

He started stepping back, taking his eyes away from the cardboard grins to look at the projector booth for his friend but saw no one there. He heard something like the plucking of a string and looked back and one of the cutouts had moved closer and he fell back entirely, almost knocking a line of instruments. There seemed to be an open storage space behind him that he hadn’t noticed. 

Another sound of string had Bendy feel he had no other choice but to run and hide so he retreated even further into the storage room. He kept eye contact until a turn from something like a hallway into a larger room broke it.

Bendy sighed exaggeratedly. He felt like he had been holding his breath just as much as he was trying not to blink. 

But he still couldn’t relax. 

This wasn’t a normal storage room. Even though it was free of stalking cutouts, he could hear that terrifying cacophony of whispering rising again. There was a line of pipes seeping with ink and voices, and writing was covering the walls. Paper, candles, and more writing were littered throughout. The centre of the room was another ritual circle painted in ink.

It was like the room he was looking for, the one he woke up in, but he knew it wasn’t the same. 

Was he getting closer or further from the answers he needed? 

Bendy creeped cautiously towards the ritual circle. He wanted to know more, he really did, but he was also so afraid. The whispering was getting really loud. Those cutouts were probably still out there. He felt alone and confused. 

He was close to the circle now, almost stepping into it when he was suddenly yanked back by a strong arm and clipped shriek. He found himself held tight against the Projectionist’s chest. 

There was a stuttering static playing from their speaker, like a hissing of reprimands at him. The taller ink creature was pointedly stepping back out the storage room and into a now truly empty and silent music hall. The cutouts have all gone. Bendy curled up closer to the Projectionist, feeling relief flood through him. He watched the floor and bubbling puddles go by, and ignored any sounds of plucked strings as they went. 


	7. One Step Forward, Too Many Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that some cosmetic aspects are changed for this AU, like the description of the Searchers and a few select locations. It should still be mostly accurate to the game until much later into the story.

The moment he stepped into the cold ink, Bendy’s body shook an exaggerated shiver. With how muggy the air could feel sometimes, he wasn't expecting the ink to be deathly chilly. Two legs in now and he was not feeling confident in the slightest. In fact, his legs literally felt like jelly. Was he sinking? Okay, no, he should really get out now.

Bendy scrambled backwards onto dry ground and kicked his legs up to watch them slowly reform back from a wiggly mess. Guess he still wasn’t ready for swimming. But, hey! He didn't get overwhelmed by all the voices this time! They were there, but weirdly.. quieter. 

He could only wonder; how did the Projectionist wade through all this without melting to gunk? Practice? Sheer force of will? 

Speaking of, Bendy felt himself being picked up again by the Projectionist and being turned around back to the music department. No, thank you! Even after that debacle with possibly the _ worst _ fan club he could’ve asked for, Bendy was still not ready to go back to the stairs that the Projectionist seemed so obligated to go to. No, he wanted to explore more! That storage room with the candles had to mean he was close to the one he needed to find. Another ritual circle on the wall right beside them made him feel like he was on the right track too. He could do without the cutout sitting in front of it though. 

Bendy wiggled around like a whiny fish in the Projectionist’s grip, trying to slip out of their hold. Their clicking sounds sped up in supposed frustration as Bendy eventually broke free and stood his ground against the significantly more scary ink creature. He jutted a finger across the flooded hallway, hoping that his friend would get the clue that, if he was going to be carried, he was going to be carried across there. 

The Projectionist just stared at him. Then stared across the hall. Then back at him again.

Bendy gave an exaggerated sigh and pouted. He kicked an empty soup can that was lying on the ground. Geez, why were there so many of them here anyways?

He kicked another can hard enough to ricochet off the cutout, knocking it down against the Projectionist’s leg on its way. They gave the expected startled shriek, before looking at the cutout with almost indignation. Bendy had to snicker. 

The Projectionist, rather than going back to doing nothing, seemed to actually look back at the hallway with more… consideration. A little hopeful, Bendy stood at the edge of the pool and pointed the way once more. He bounced in place, waiting, until the Projectionist seemed to make a decision and gently picked him up _ without _ turning around to the music department. Success! 

Bendy was so excited to finally get going that he almost missed the fact that, right before the Projectionist stepped forward into the ink, that cutout was back in its place in front of the circle. 

It wasn’t too far into the next hallway where Bendy followed the promising trail of candles and circles that he encountered the coffins.

Those… didn’t belong to an animation studio either. This area could honestly be like any other passage they’ve crossed, same old wooden structures, miscellaneous mechanical panels, and posters that reminded you that this was supposed to be an animation studio. And then, tucked into the corner were two coffins. Y’know, for dead people. With some candles, and another magic circle to boot. Bendy knew what coffins were for but he didn’t really want to think about it too hard. He still didn’t have all the clues, after all! Sure, there was the case of the missing employees, the abandoned studio, all the monsters… 

Yeah, yeah, Bendy knew he was being in denial. This place was feeling more and more unfortunate the more pieces he put together. Something tragic happened here. He needed to find that room and that man as soon as he could. 

He pulled at the Projectionist’s hand to keep going, almost yanking them when they didn’t budge at first. They eventually trailed after him, albeit taking only another three clunky steps, but something was off. 

Usually the Projectionist walked in a sure step, barely phased by anything! They stomped down those other ink monsters so easy and went straight back to work! Bendy was sure they knew these halls like the back of their hand with how easily they traversed all the stairs and corridors. 

And now they seemed like they didn’t want to go a step further. 

Every new corner had them scan the place fervently, hands held out in this strange twitch. They weren’t.. _ scared… _right? Oh no, no way Jose, that can't happen. The Projectionist losing their cool would start to make Bendy lose his cool too, and that wouldn’t do either of them any good! 

Bendy quickly scoured the room for something to show them, maybe have them fidget around with it. That made Bendy feel better so maybe it’d help them? 

There was another tape recorder on the ledge across from them. Oh man, was he ready for whatever that may play? Only one way to find out. 

Bendy reached toward the recorder and was cut short by the Projectionist once again refusing to move. They stood in the centre of the room, absolutely silent aside from the clicking and rising static from their speaker. Bendy tugged at their thin hand once more but they weren't budging. 

It was almost as if they were waiting for something. Concentrating. Listening?

That can’t be right. Bendy knew the Projectionist couldn’t hear him or anything else. 

Bendy decided to let go of the hand for now and grab the recorder himself when that static suddenly broke out in a burst. It was a louder, jumbled tone of voices crackling through, like it was picking up multiple odd channels at once. Bendy squeaked and the Projectionist had whipped around in the direction they had entered, already ready to face the dripping, half-bodied monsters from before now coming towards them. Bendy did not miss those pretty faces. 

One of them specifically had Bendy jump back in fright as its apparent _two_ sets of teeth stretched in agony and wailed. The extra skull-like shape gnashed against the main one, throwing the creature off balance as it clumsily dragged itself across the floor. Just what was up with these things?! 

Bendy winced at the cracking sound of one creature that was a bit more goopy and missing a jaw being swiftly stomped into a puddle. 

And then the recorder slipped from his grip, bouncing onto the counter and then landing on the chair with plastic clatter. It started to play, with the voice of Sammy Lawrence coming through again. Something was strange about it.

_ “He appears in the shadows, to rain his sweet blessings upon me…” _

All the groaning creatures suddenly twitched up and shifted focus on Bendy. 

Bendy began to panic, hurriedly shushing at the recorder as he fumbled for the stop or pause button. A lot of the markings were faded and his hands were a bit shaky. He was about to press down on one of the faded keys when something even stranger happened. Bendy had realized none of the creatures moved any closer. 

_ “...I pray that you hear me…” _

The snippy music director from before now sounded… weird. His attitude was completely different in this tape. It was low, unnerving. Reverent. And the recording just kept on playing, praising, asking about a saviour.

_ “...Those old songs, yes, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me..” _

All the monsters were listening to it. 

Both Bendy and the Projectionist watched all the creatures sit in a silent audience to the recording of an apparent preacher. The voice continued to fill the room with a tense, ominous atmosphere until it finished.

_ “...Can I get an amen?” _

The creatures all slowly bowed down, heads pressed down into the floorboards, a low groan among them. And soon they sank through, leaving the two alone. 

The Projectionist finally broke from their statue impression to approach Bendy, the static dying away as they did. They seemed to glance at the recorder in his hands but didn’t move to take it. They did tilt at it and then at Bendy, and he could only really shrug in response. He wasn’t really sure how to explain what happened. They wouldn’t have been able to hear what the recorder played, leaving only Bendy to try and figure out why a bunch of ink monsters would be satisfied to hear an audio log and then leave. 

It seemed like listening to the recording calmed them down? But why? Why would a bunch of monsters want to listen to some old employee from a rundown studio? Sure, the voice was _kinda_ cool, but that was also suddenly very creepy! Bendy thought this guy hated the ink! 

He squinted at the tape recorder as if it’d give him something more to work with. You lose your job because of a closed animation studio and start worshiping ink monsters apparently. Man, was this a cult thing?

There was a wall across from him, to the right of the Projectionist, with even more candles. It had a little picture of himself plastered there too, but that wasn’t a surprise at this point. There's pictures of him everywhere. The text painted onto the wall though? A little unnerving. 

‘HE WILL SET US FREE’

This was a cult thing.

… Was this guy still here?

He squinted at the empty room. Silent. Empty. Because all the employees are _ gone _, obviously. He already figured all that out. The ink messed stuff up, and the studio was closed, and monsters scared everyone off!

The monsters that… that just sat there and listened to the old music director. 

The coffins still sat in the opposite corner of the room, bothering the corner of his vision. Some of those monsters looked rather... skeletal, didn’t they? As if you took a bunch of bones and stuck ‘em in the ink? Something that would be very easy to do in a flooded studio...

Bendy was beginning to realize he couldn't keep denying that maybe.. maybe the employees never really got to leave when this place went under. 

He was going to keep going. Press on. Find some answers. But he wasn’t going to like them. Bendy tucked the recorder under his arm before they resumed their exploration, just in case. 

_Stairs!! Noo!_

Bendy threw his head back in despair, having to accept that he couldn’t avoid them forever. He squinted up those rickety steps that look like they’d fall apart any moment. He already got this far, hasn’t he? He made his way up the stairs, feeling that deja vu again. This time it was telling him he was close to something important, and telling him to… watch out?!

The Projectionist was still making their way up the stairs carefully with their mismatched legs when suddenly, a huge melting hand made a swipe at Bendy at the top step. He squeaked out in alarm, almost falling back down the steps if not for the Projectionist catching him quick. The speaker was bursting with static again.

Emerging from the room above was one of the biggest monster he’s seen so far, much bigger than the others! It was still just a torso up of ink, absolutely bloated and bubbling, groaning as it moved in large, heavy pulls. It didn’t resemble a human skeleton like the others at this point from all the layers of ink piled on itself. For some reason it was wearing some sort of hat or helmet? 

Bendy couldn’t question about it for long as it made another lunge, having him brace for cover when suddenly-

_ PANG! _

The giant creature was suddenly hit away, having been smacked against its helmet with a loud resonating clash as Bendy was now wielding… his dustpan!! It was back! Right in his hand! 

Everyone seemed to be stunned by the surprise weapon as he was. Bendy gripped his shaky gloved hands around the handle and got ready for another swing when the enemy was starting to recover. With a single-track mind, it dove towards him again. 

Bendy smacked it one more time, then another, batting the creature back into the room it had come from. The Projectionist had to shuffle around in the small stairwell space to not step on the little demon as they tried a way to fight as well. Their wires clacked around and brushed the walls, making it difficult for them.

The initial advantage of surprise quickly wore off for Bendy as his next hit was unfortunately not as strong as he’d like. The sheer size of the opposing creature easily overpowered him as it backhanded the dustpan. Bendy's significantly lighter body ended up getting shoved to the other side of the room, hearing the clang of his dustpan land beside him.

It didn’t hurt as much as it could’ve, and Bendy wasn’t sure if he had bones to break, but _ oww… _ He was just as experienced in fighting as he was in wading through ink pools, which is to say, not enough. 

He could hear more groaning and shrieks as the two larger creatures of the three started their fight among themselves. The Projectionist could handle this, right? Even if this enemy was way too big to stomp down as easily? Bendy felt the fear that he was able to bat down with a dustpan earlier starting to rise again. Ink was running off his face, obscuring his vision.

There was a gross, wet _ ‘snap!’ _that Bendy knew was from one of the Projectionist’s cables. He winced and tried to scrub at his face, blinking rapidly to see how the fight was going. 

His vision focused on a ring of burnt out candles in front of him, surrounding an ink ritual circle, and several boxes that he now could see were more coffins. 

This was.. This was it. This was the room he’d been trying to find.

Another shriek by the doorway was his only warning to jump out of the way as the Projectionist shoved their opponent into the corner, causing a thick, gross splash. The other creature wasn’t down yet though as Bendy could see globs of ink merging back into its arms. The Projectionist limped into the room, a newly broken cable dragging behind to join the ones that broke from before, from when the balcony collapsed. 

Bendy had an idea. 

He looked to one of the coffins, standing as tall as the Projectionist, leaning haphazardly against the wall. He needed to act now and hope the other could catch on, clever as they were last time.

The gross spluttering of the creature beside him _(man he needed a name for these things!)_ signaled another attack so Bendy quickly bolted to the other side of the room. He wrapped his arms around the base of the coffin, trying to get as good a grip as his gloved hands would allow. The thick wooden box nudged slightly in a worrying direction. Bendy looked back at the approaching enemy and then up at the Projectionist pleadingly.

_ Please, please, work with me here! _

The Projectionist stared down at the opposing creature long enough until it was right in front of them, jaw stretched unnaturally as it gave a gurgling wail. Bendy squealed as he tried another tug at the coffin and felt it give. The Projectionist had suddenly wrapped an arm at the back of it, and the two of them gave the thing one final shove. 

Gravity did the rest as the heavy coffin crushed the creature down into the floorboards. There was a nasty crack and splatter on impact. A defeated gurgle echoed in the room, then the creature was silent. The ink quietly seeped away into the floorboards. The static died down. 

Bendy leaned against the other coffin, catching his breath. He let out a frustrating whine at the fact that literally everyone he's encountered so far has attacked him. Doesn’t anyone here just want to talk?! 

The Projectionist was staring at the fallen coffin, no longer riled up from the battle. They just stood there as they normally did, if not for their hands doing that twitchy thing again. It was starting to worry Bendy. 

Bendy weakly kicked at a fallen candle that used to be from the ritual circle. He finally made here, and made quite a mess of the place already. It was mostly underwhelming in every other aspect now that the excitement died down. 

The little toon gave a sigh and searched the room for something, anything that could be significant. It seemed basically the same as he remembered. Candles, ink, coffins... definitely disrespected by Bendy and the Projectionist but it was a little justified? Maybe? 

The circle in the room was at least a little interesting. One could almost make out the shape that makes up most of the magic circles he’s seen, but there was a lot more scribbling all over it. And no, that’s not counting the splattered ink from just now. It was like someone went wild and added on a bunch onto this circle in particular. 

The Projectionist didn’t stop him from stepping on this one, but nothing happened anyway once Bendy paced around and on top it. Bendy wondered if maybe it had to do with the candles being out, the circle getting obscured, or maybe someone had to actively perform a ritual here for something to happen. Maybe all three?

Bendy let out one long disappointed whistle. He didn’t get any answers at all from being here! Why wasn’t there anyone he could talk to?! He already knew he shouldn’t have expected to find that man from before, the one that was collapsed beside him at the very beginning. It had been a lot of time between then and now and no one could sleep that long. But, still!

He rubbed at his eyes, not wanting to cry just because he was getting frustrated. He just wanted to know why he was here, and maybe how he could get out. 

Bendy never thought about it much, but he kind of wanted to get out. There was still much to explore here but in the end he wanted to see the ‘outside’ from his borrowed memories. Maybe take the Projectionist with him. Is that a lot to ask for? Probably.

Bendy went over to pick up his dustpan when he realized that he apparently lost the creepy tape recorder. He realized he had forgotten about it immediately and felt entirely too embarrassed now. He wanted to test it on other ink creatures to see if they’d calm down to the prayers as well. When did he drop it? Bendy tossed the dustpan behind him as he started kicking stuff around and lifting up planks for the missing tape recorder.

He was finding a whole lot of nothing, dust, nothing, some paper, more empty cans for some reason… 

_ Huh? _

Bendy lowered himself to the floor to reach under a toppled chair where there was apparently a book. It was lying open, pages crumpling below it as if it was thrown away without a care, like all the soup cans littered around it. 

Bendy carefully picked it up and smoothed his hand over the poor pages. He considered it really lucky that it didn’t get drenched in ink after everything. The cover did actually have some smudges all over the bottom half, blocking out the text there, but the title could still be made out. 

_ ‘The Illusion of Living’ _

_ Foreboding... _

_ But maybe important! _

The toon closed the cover very gently and tucked the possibly important book away under his arm when he realized that now his dustpan was missing again. And he didn’t find the recorder, either. 

He squinted at the Projectionist accusingly but was stuck just squinting because the projector light was looking back at him. There was nothing on the Projectionist’s person to show that they’d been taking stuff from Bendy. Their hands were empty, and still shaking.

It was as if they realized that Bendy had nothing else to do in this room when the Projectionist suddenly stepped over the coffin and picked him up again. It was done rather hurriedly that Bendy was worried another creature popped up, but the room and radio was silent. 

Bendy was given enough time to look around the room from the higher vantage point and confirm that none of his collected items were lying anywhere. He gripped onto the new book tightly, refusing to lose this one as they left the ritual room behind. 

Bendy sighed. Back to the stairwells they go.


	8. Secret Passages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hopefully more calm chapter, with Bendy doing some light reading

_ Stay out of trouble.. Take care of the projectors and stay out of trouble.. Take care of the reels, take care of the cartoon, and stay out of… _

Taking care of the cartoon was… making it hard to stay out of trouble. 

The little devil darling seeming to slip right out of the reels and walk around was making the Projectionist’s job much more complicated than the original description, if the low burning of another ripped cable meant anything. 

It was enough that all the creatures of the studio were out to tear the thing apart, but the demon seemed to have a knack for disappearing acts whenever the Projectionist wasn’t looking. The fact it- Bendy? seemed content to finally sit still with some book it-he? picked up had the Projectionist feeling almost.. relieved. 

Hopefully the book had him distracted long enough to not wander into another circle and slip through into the studio depths. The sanctuary was a close call. 

Thinking back to that flooded hallway, the little demon probably wouldn’t survive it either with how his legs seemed to turn into a smear. It made sense. You make the cartoons out of ink, and too much ink messes them up. It was frustrating and he shouldn’t have laughed that one time when that inkwell spilled. At least he apologized later to… who did he apologize to? When did that happen? 

These questions.. So many questions the Projectionist ignored for his routine for all these years… Why are they all rising again now? 

What was he doing again?

... Too many questions. This was asking for trouble. 

He needed to get back to work now, take care of the projectors, and take care of the-

The Projectionist quickly spun around to check on Bendy, accidentally scaring the kid(?) into dropping that book. He was still lying down on that crate the Projectionist left him on. He hadn’t wandered off when the Projectionist’s mind did. Good. 

Carefully bending down to pick up the book, the Projectionist felt compelled to see what was so interesting about it, but he knew that it would be difficult to make out. His mind swam too much to focus, and the light was too harsh on the pages, having that weird effect sometimes where it was like it reflected back at him. He felt.. disappointed. 

That was fine though. 

Why was he doing this?

He had to stop asking questions. Stop getting into trouble now, Nor-… Who? Wait, who was-

_ Stay out of trouble. _

The Projectionist returned the book to the toon and went back to work. 

At first, Bendy was parsing the mystery book pages with caution, since it seemed like it might fall apart as easily as the studio, but he then started getting bored at the first few pages full of drawing and animation basics. It was a book that seemed to describe the secret and success of Joey Drew Studios. Bendy clearly could see how that ended… 

But then it actually got interesting. Flicking through what Bendy thought was ink-ruined pages turned out to be jotting and draftings full of weird talk about impossible machines, and soon, magic. 

The first sets of notes described a machine that could do impossible things such as bringing cartoons to life, meeting them and shaking their hand. 

That was the exact wording. 

Whoever wrote this was a bit of a weirdo, Bendy thought, but there was some implication that the machine sort of worked? It was hard to make out as paragraphs seemed to get crossed out here and there, the following wording somehow more frustrated. 

And that was when the pages on magic started coming in.

There were circles and sigils he hadn’t seen before, starting with cleaner notes, as if the writer had more confidence again, before things started getting frantic once more. There were notes of summonings, sacrifices (_who was 'Susie'?)_, portals, unfamiliar and then soon familiar magic circles, and then messy drabbles about demons and devils. Some things were written in another language entirely. 

At the point where it seemed the writer finally got what they wanted, the following pages were torn out entirely,

Bendy flipped through everything over and started shaking the book for any loose papers but alas, it seemed those pages were just gone. His only clue to what those pages were for was ink bleed spelling out the words “The Ink Machine” before it continued to the ramblings of a madman. The guy must’ve lost it entirely if his handwriting decided to change entirely by the last half of it all. 

At least there were some nice doodles in here, as Bendy found a page near the end that had a little picture of himself. It was him splashing around with a little umbrella and big boots. The notes seemed to stop soon after that. 

Bendy couldn’t help but feel super excited about the book though, because he was absolutely right that it was important! It only made sense, the Ink Machine being mixed with some dangerous scary magic was why everything went downhill! Everything was covered in ink after all! And _magic _ink must be why it was so weird. It probably was what made him and all the other creatures… and messed with the studio…. and all those poor employees….. Wowie, this was actually kinda horrible!

Bendy was absolutely right about finally getting answers, and not liking them one bit. 

The little devil sighed as he closed the book, opting to balance it by the corner on his hand. He really couldn’t do anything about it now. He could only see if there was a way for him and the Projectionist to get out of this nightmare studio. Maybe actually get to play in real rain. 

Bendy wondered if he actually still wanted to find that guy from back then or not, judging by the book they dropped… He tossed it around in thought, hearing an accompanying slide whistle as he did. 

All the pages near the end of this were just remaining animation notes, something about the development of technology, final words about the future and dreams, but no more scribblings over the text or in the free white space. 

Bendy wondered if maybe he could keep the book and draw on it too. That’d be something to do whenever he was stuck waiting for the Projectionist to finish their maintenance and- _ WHOA! _said Projectionist had just whipped around to look at him, blinding Bendy immediately and making him send the book straight to the floor with a soft thud. 

Bendy blinked and squinted away at the light spots as the Projectionist nodded at something and picked up the book for him. 

Huh. The Projectionist held the book up and seemed to read through a couple pages themself with a tilt of the projector head. 

It was always a little tickling to see the guy do anything but work on the projectors and reels, creep’ around, or pummel the other monsters. And it always never lasted, as Bendy expected, with how their clicking stuttered and their head shook, finally losing interest in the book and going back to that projector.

Bendy hugged the book, feeling rather bad now that the poor Projectionist seemed like such a curious fella but kept going back to work anyway. They had to be clever enough to know the studio was closed down and no one was bossing them around, so why were they like that? Going through the motions like a ghost.

The Projectionist was.. an employee here.

Bendy sighed and decided now would be a good time to start doodling if the Projectionist felt so obligated to work again. It wasn’t like he could tell them... Maybe he could write a note? Did their light get in the way of reading? Did the guy.. know? 

...

What the-? 

On the few pages that the Projectionist looked through, overlapping all the messy black scribblings, was several bouts of glowing, gold ink. 

Bendy knew that wasn't there before. 

There were corrections over all the circles, words crossed out and replaced, annotations, and some of the doodles at the corners glowed too. It was all written in the handwriting for the second half of the notes. 

‘... reanimated…’

‘Why do I keep falling?’

‘... teleportation? Portals?’

‘What if …. added to…’

‘Try again.’ 

And it was starting to fade. 

Bendy panicked and flipped through quickly to see if other pages had the same secret messages before disappearing but there were none. Was it only on those pages..? But why? Did it have to do with the Projectionist? Maybe if he made them look at the other pages... 

Bendy quickly hopped off the crate he’d been lying on and bounded over to the Projectionist. He set the book down on the floor, stamped his right foot a couple times next to them to announce his presence then quickly pulled at the taller creature’s shirt once they turned around. 

The Projectionist let out a startled screech as Bendy shoved them around a little (sorry, he was just a bit excited about this!) and angled the projector’s light to finally focus on the book. He put up a finger to say ‘wait right there!’ before opening the book to the other pages, cutting somewhere to the middle of it where the missing pages were. He held it in the light for a bit before sliding it away to check. 

Lo and behold, gold text was suddenly illuminated all over. There was something about the ink machine and question marks pointing towards the ripped part of the book. Bendy flipped to the beginning of the book, shone it under the light, and found cute little stars here and there.. And more text, written like side notes to the earliest notes written in the book. This only gave Bendy pause as he started to realize they were more like responses rather than additions to the notes or the original book’s text.

There were two authors.

Arrows were drawn to mark each response to whatever paragraph, each containing some snide remark (‘and how did that work out for ya?’), 

a terrible joke (‘in your dreams!’), 

or actual vitriol (‘I never wanted to come back.’). 

There was a dedication at the beginning of the book. In nicely printed text was a dedication thanking the hardworking employees of Joey Drew Studios and thanking the wonderful fans of the Bendy cartoons. It felt like empty words. Especially with the glowing text at the bottom that Bendy knew better than to think as sincere as all the words read were; 

_ ‘You’re welcome, Joey.’ _

Bendy kept reading. More and more hateful words had Bendy starting to feel rather distressed, but he couldn't stop flipping to more pages, holding them under the light, and reading. It was all anger directed at Joey Drew, who Bendy has concluded to have written the book and the first half of the notes. Bendy could hear a borrowed memory in the back of his mind, talking wearily about how Joey just takes and _ takes _. 

The Projectionist who was stunned in confusion before now started an impatient clicking as Bendy kept them in place, wanting to reread the last half of the golden text.

It seemed that over time the second author had calmed down some. Like they were tired.

There were some diary-type excerpts and out of context notes that became less frequent as he went on. And then Bendy looked at the way the second author corrected upon corrections, delving into the darker parts of magic themself, adding tally marks, until it reached what Bendy knew was the end of the black notes. In brilliant gold was a complex magic circle that Bendy knew must’ve been the one in the candle room. The one he woke up on. It.. it wasn't the machine that made him. 

The next page was the one that was crumpled when Bendy first found the book thrown on the ground. Its writing was the last instance of gold ink, in words that seemed to exude a frustration and tiredness Bendy would never understand:

** _‘It didn’t work.’ _ **

Bendy closed his eyes and carefully shut the book under the projector light. He hugged it once more, sitting back on what felt like both a victory and defeat. What did they mean it didn't work? Wasn't he right there?

The Projectionist stared quietly before they seemed to huff (which Bendy would’ve found amusing any other time) and moved to click on the projector they were working on, signalling a finished job. Bendy didn’t fuss this time as he was picked up, needing some time to take things in. All he could think about was how he finally got answers, but also new questions buzzing around that the borrowed memories didn't want to answer for him. He guessed he still needed to find the mystery man after all. 

Once again the Projectionist is forced to question more and more when it came to the little devil pulling him around, illuminating that book of his. Did he want him to read along? Was he using him as a flashlight? Why was that book starting to seem familiar? It must've been related to his job. The one he should be focusing on if it weren’t for the toon. Take care of the..

What happened? Where was he again? Looking at a book, apparently. 

It was obvious when things started distressing the toon in front of him. The Projectionist watched as his expression dropped and the ink started to run. 

Something was telling him to move. Take care of the cartoon. 

The book was closed and that strange reflection effect appeared again at the front cover, almost readable to him. Scribbled over the original book’s author, written in gold, was the name ‘Henry Stein’.

But the Projectionist couldn't dwell on that. The toon was still upset about something. He clicked the projector on and picked Bendy up. 

_ Keep moving. Take care of the cartoon. _

He remembered now. He did apologize to Henry about the inkwell.

_ Stay out of trouble. Take care. _

Bendy noticed that this hallway was familiar.

And yes, everything in the studio seemed like it was made of repeating patterns and textures, but he knew this hallway.

It was the one that he had met the Projectionist in, with the fishing pole monster and ink pool. Bendy wondered perhaps if this meant the Projectionist was nearing the end of his routine, or starting a new one. He was still a bit too bummed out to feel excited about exploring so he kept himself slumped against the Projectionist’s shoulder, with the book still in his hands. It felt awkward to leave it anywhere so he kept it for now. He still needed to find what happened to Sammy’s audio log too and the dustpan too.

The Projectionist must’ve noticed his mood, stopping to glance at him every now and then. 

They stopped before the pool of ink for some reason. There was something on the ground that the Projectionist shone the light on for a second in consideration before picking it up and passing it to Bendy. Or more of, tapping Bendy’s back with it because he didn’t feel like moving just yet. 

The tapping was insistent and Bendy grumbled as he finally gave a peak. In the Projectionist’s hand was a small wooden train, with moveable wheels and cute little windows. Were they.. trying to cheer him up? Why was there a toy here? 

Bendy accepted the little train anyway, feeling just a little happy at receiving his first present. He remembered now that one of the cartoon posters was labelled “Train Troubles”, which was probably what the toy was based off of. Would it be weird to collect merchandise from your own supposed franchise? 

The Projectionist continued to march along and Bendy couldn’t help but notice that they seemed to break out of habit more and more for his sake. He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but he wanted to lean more on ‘good’ because they seemed like a nice ink monster-person-past-employee that shouldn’t be stuck to boring work and getting attacked. Bendy also realized he should probably be more appreciative too. He must’ve been more than a handful to deal with.

The little toon made sure to have a big, genuine grin as he fiddled around with the train, spinning the wheels and rolling it over the book. The Projectionist gave him a glance and seemed to huff, which made Bendy grin more. 

… Alright. It was official. Bendy definitely wanted them to escape together. It'd kill him to leave his friend behind. 

They weren’t halfway through to the pool when the speaker suddenly broke into harsh static, with those overlapping voices. 

The Projectionist quickened their step, apparently deciding to run from this danger instead of fight it. Bendy wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t really ask. The hallway had suddenly darkened, and a heartbeat thumped. 

Once. Twice.

The speaker sharply peaked before it was cut silent, and the Projectionist ran. 

Bendy could only see darkness behind them as the Projectionist hurried past the window, past tables, and into the narrow stairway. The gate rolled down behind them and Bendy could hear only a muffled creak and slam from the other side. They kept going down and down the steps until he couldn’t hear that terrible heartbeat anymore. 

They weren’t followed. 

The Projectionist slowed their pace back to the usual slow gait, now out of danger, and was looking warily around at their surroundings. The two of them were now in a new area of the studio, in a weird room that seemed to splice into a factory. It was lined with moving shelves displaying many little plush dolls and more wooden toys like his train. 

Bendy wasn’t sure if this was where the Projectionist meant to go, to explain how it seemed like they were trying to find their bearings. 

There was a hiss of steam and smoke nearby, metal clanking, and the quiet dripping of ink. A speaker in the corner of the room crackled quietly. 

The Projectionist’s own speaker was still silent, allowing Bendy to hear something he didn’t before: A quick, scared heartbeat coming from the Projectionist’s chest, muffled under the metal. 

They really do get scared like him, even if they don't show it.

The borrowed memories seemed to give him a feeling of apprehension, telling him that he didn’t want to meet whatever nightmare they ran from.

Thanks not-memories. As if Bendy couldn't figure that it was bad news back there himself.

The Projectionist had their free hand out, doing that shaking again. Their head twitched, light flickering rapidly, and they almost seemed… lost. This happened back then too, when they were trapped under the debris. 

Bendy looked down at the little train in his hands before tapping the Projectionist’s shoulder. 

At the questioning gaze he received, he slowly grabbed their free hand to place the train into and gave a big smile. They could take turns with it, since they both clearly needed something to cheer up. 

The Projectionist accepted it with a slow nod. 

Success!

As if getting an idea, the Projectionist seemed to perk up and turned to another direction. Instead of more stairs, the two of them ventured just a little further into the factory-not-factory. As always, a lot of the passageways they go through felt so narrow and obscure, Bendy wondered how the Projectionist knew about all these routes.

They reached some sort of balcony or viewing gallery that was off to the side of an even bigger room. The balcony itself was a dead-end, without any projectors to work on, so Bendy couldn’t help but be a little confused at why they were here. It just had a couple posters, unopened soup cans, scissors and spools, and oh- that’s a HUGE plush toy! It looked like one of the Alice Angel character and was sitting in the corner of the room with other small plushies. 

The Projectionist waited in place, Bendy noticing the speaker returned to a neutral crackling, before letting Bendy jump down. The toon walked up to the railing to look into the bigger room below, getting a feeling of deja vu. The more special looking areas always seemed to have that feeling while the backways didn't. 

Now THIS was the biggest room he’d seen so far. The ceiling was so high up, with giant airplane models suspended in the air, and a cascade of ink falling down between two staircases at the far back. There was a ring or halo of some sort that surrounded the ink-fall. 

_ It’s a halo, _ Bendy’s brain corrected, after he read the signage at the top that said “Heavenly Toys”. 

_'I don't remember any of this'_ the borrowed memories said. That was clearly a lie, since the memory just remembered it. 

He could only guess that this was some sort of toy factory or display area that got real blown up in proportion, like how other parts of the studio seemed to stretch on more than they should. Probably from the Ink Machine. 

There were more big plush dolls downstairs (one of himself and one of Boris the Wolf), a couple couches, and a whole army of cardboard cutouts scattered about. Some were flat on their backs but none looked up directly their way which was comforting. It made it feel like a safe, more secluded area.

There was another balcony area across from him as well, that seemed to have a mound of items shoved together but Bendy couldn’t make anything out from where he was. Unless… 

He stuck a tongue out in concentration and squinted at the other balcony, cupping his gloves into makeshift binoculars. It looked silly. And of course, it actually worked.

Bendy could now make out the piles of toys and pieces of cloth that buried a couch on the other balcony. A blanket or tarp was thrown over the side of the couch and pitched up by a plank or three like a lil roof and making everything look arranged like a little den or hideout. There were stacks of cans, gears, miscellaneous tools, and- was that another cutout?

Before he could get a closer look, whatever the roughly-him sized thing was had suddenly jerked away, as if it knew it was being spied on, and it MOVED. It ducked down from the railings before scurrying off and out of sight.

_ WHAT?! _

Bendy put his hands down, an incredulous look on his face at what he just witnessed. It.. probably wasn’t a cutout then. 

But.. 

_ What… _

A clipped tone behind him drew Bendy’s attention back to the Projectionist who seemed to decide they were hunkering down here on this balcony, away from work and monsters. Huh. Well now, Bendy had no qualms to that! _ Especially _ after everything they had to go through.

Bendy bounced over to the Alice Angel plushie, throwing the book onto it before sitting promptly on the leg. The Projectionist meanwhile went to the wall next to him, set down the train, and started trying to sit down rather slowly and carefully, As if the guy didn’t know how. 

There was no way the guy just never took a break all this time, right? That was impossible. 

Eventually the Projectionist managed to clunk down with their legs splayed out, looking somehow both super casual and ridiculous at the same time. Bendy won’t judge. He had come to accept the other creature’s quirks and tendencies; anything that made them seem more human (as weird as that sounded, Bendy realized). 

Bendy slid down and decided to sit on the floor instead, having his back to the plush leg, so that he could reach the train. Bendy grinned and roughly shoved at it, making it run across the floor and bump into the Projectionist’s leg and giving them a startle. The toon laughed another whistling tune before having to dodge a train that rolled back at him even faster.

They passed the train back and forth a couple times, one time nearly driving it off the balcony entirely, before the Projectionist seemed to get lost in their thoughts. Bendy left them to it and decided to start doodling now. A still puddle in the corner provided some ink for him to draw as many squares as he could as he tried to figure out how to draw his friend. 

It was a nice break from constantly moving around, either for work or from monsters, so Bendy was going to enjoy it as much as he could. Even if the quiet made him almost doze off. He picked up a Boris the Wolf doll from the ground to hug as he continued to draw. The Projectionist’s static was low and calmed down, and a speaker in the corner of the hall started to play the sound of someone humming a lovely tune, something about an angel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't obvious, most of the routes that our duo seem to take are not accessible game routes to explain and match with how the Projectionist seems to get around the Studio without the use of portals.  
If an area they enter IS a game one, you'll probably be able to tell. (and I hope it'll be obvious what are Slightly Altered game areas too, but you're always free to ask as well) 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> you can find more content for the AU on my tumblr  
maulan-reverie.tumblr.com


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